Chapter 2

Adrian’s POV

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly as the weight of the board meeting settled over me. The pressure to maintain Blackwood’s dominance in the industry was mounting, and my personal life—of all things—was now under scrutiny.

Neville, my personal assistant, strode in, shutting the door behind him with a knowing look. “We need to talk.”

I rubbed my temples, already anticipating where this was going. “I was just about to call you in. Let me guess—you’re about to lecture me on how my dating habits are tanking our company’s image?”

He didn’t even try to soften the blow. “I don’t need to lecture. The board made it clear: our biggest competitor is gaining traction because their CEO is a family man. Investors see him as reliable, grounded. Meanwhile, you…” He gave a pointed glance at the whiskey tumbler on my desk. “You’re ‘the bachelor CEO’ who cycles through models and influencers like they’re seasonal collections.”

I scoffed, though the truth of his words gnawed at me. “Since when does my personal life dictate business success?”

“Since always,” Neville shot back. “We need to fix this, Adrian. The company’s future depends on it.”

I sighed, drumming my fingers on the desk. “So, what? You want me to settle down overnight? I can’t just conjure up a family.”

Neville smirked. “Not overnight. But a serious commitment—one that makes investors believe you’re in it for the long haul—could shift public perception. It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about Blackwood.”

I considered his words, reluctant but aware he had a point. “And where exactly do you expect me to find this ‘perfect’ woman?”

“Not in your usual crowd, that’s for sure,” Neville quipped. “No influencers, no socialites, no one whose idea of ‘humble’ is a five-course meal at Mon Amie.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “So, what then? A kindergarten teacher? A charity volunteer?”

“Someone genuine,” he said. “Someone who can play the role convincingly—without the constant PR disasters.”

I leaned back, a smirk playing on my lips. “No ex-cons either, I suppose?”

Neville grinned. “That would be ideal.”

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. If I wanted to secure Blackwood’s future, I needed to present an image of stability.

Still, the idea of commitment—real or staged—felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

*

I left the office late that evening, the conversation with Neville replaying in my head. My company’s future hinged on my ability to convince the world I was something I wasn’t.

As the elevator doors slid open, I stepped inside and barely noticed the woman in the corner—until I heard a quiet sniffle.

She was wiping away stray tears, her body tense, as if she was willing herself to keep it together.

Normally, I wouldn’t care. My employees’ personal struggles weren’t my concern. But something about her made me pause.

“Are you okay?”

Her head snapped up, startled. She met my gaze briefly before lowering her eyes, as if embarrassed to be caught in a vulnerable moment.

“I’m fine, sir.”

Her voice was soft, controlled—but the pain in her eyes was unmistakable.

She looked up at me, and my heart skipped a beat. The name tag clipped to her dress read Sarah Nathaniel.

I opened my mouth to ask her something else, but before I could say anything more, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She rushed out, leaving me standing there, lost in thought. Images of her from the club flooded my mind. 

What was she doing here? It can't be her, I told myself again and again.

The fiery red hair was gone, replaced with sleek black strands tied back in a neat ponytail. She looked different now—more polished, more refined. But there was no mistaking her.

It was her.

The woman from that night.

I stood there for a moment longer, grappling with my thoughts until Neville came down, his boots pounding on the floor.

“What’s wrong, Sir?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

“Get me all the information on that staff member—Sarah Nathaniel,” I replied, my mind racing with questions about this unexpected encounter.

“Yes sir.” Neville replied without questioning my sudden interest in a random employee. We walked into the open night air where my driver was waiting with the car already. 

“Goodnight Sir, and don't forget to think about what we discussed.” Neville said as he shut the door after I got in. 

I smirked. “I'll start my search for a suitable bride as soon as possible, don't worry.”

He nodded, waving as the car made its way out of the company building. 

*

The next morning, I was seated in my office, one leg crossed over the other, as my mind wandered. I had spent most of last night poring over Sarah's file, plagued with memories of that night—the feverish lovemaking that had left me breathless. I hadn’t even gotten her name.

I recalled how clingy she had been, her body pressed against mine, and a smirk tugged at my lips. If I was going to enter into a fake union, it might as well be with someone I enjoyed being with intimately. The thought made me feel a strange mix of excitement and apprehension.

Just then, I heard a tentative knock on my door. A grin spread across my face; I knew it was her. “Come in,” I called out.

The door opened slowly, and as she stepped inside, my heart raced. There she was—Sarah Nathaniel—looking both nervous and desirable in that flared skirt.

I leaned back in my chair, ready to engage her, she hesitated at the threshold, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

“Hey there.”